The Last Dinosaur
by Sawn-Off-GlitterBoy
Summary: Sure, the war is over, and the good guys won, happy endings all around. Of course, there are exceptions to any rule, and Mr. Potter seems to be high on that list. All he wants is to be left alone, but its not like that stopped anyone before.
1. Let's start from the beginning

The Last Dinosaur: A Harry Potter Fanfic

Written by Sawn-Off GlitterBoy

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter, that's all JKR's. However, there will be a chapter by chapter of what I'm making up, which I own. Completely. Now, on with the story!

Chapter 1: "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

The last battle in the second war would forever be classified as one of the bloodiest battles of human history, not just magical or muggle, because both groups were involved. American SEALS and British SAS troops fought alongside Unspeakables and Aurors in the fight for the last stronghold of the British magical community, Hogwarts. Eventually, the day was won, with the finishing blow being dealt by Harry Potter, as per the Prophesy. This young man, only age seventeen when it was all said and done, also racked up the highest kill tally in the whole war, collecting the wand from each of his victims, a grisly trophy of his accomplishments. 2,327 witches and wizards went to the great beyond because of Harry Potter. 2,328, if you count Voldemort's wand, and several hundred shell casings from various handguns, assault rifles, heavy machine guns, and sniper rifles. The final confrontation was rather anti-climactic, no long monologues, no dramatic final charge, just Harry drawing a huge hand cannon and putting a hollow-point filled with his magical energy into Voldemort's brain. Plain and simple, that was that, and the war was over, everyone was happy, and life went on.

But how can life go on for someone for whom the war never ended, the wounds never healed, and the meaning for his life was gone? How do you tell a person who committed themselves so completely to a cause that they were sure they weren't going to survive to just "Go home"? Harry didn't have a home, he didn't have a family, and he wasn't sure he could ever completely go back to the way he was. He was the last dinosaur, a relic of an era of war that wasn't necessary anymore, which ceased to have purpose or direction. With that though in mind, he simply vanished from the victory celebrations, disappeared from Hogwarts, and then disappeared from the public eye. He wasn't sure where he could go, to find a direction in his life, but he was sure that he wanted to get good and drunk and catch up with all of the drinking he had denied himself for the past two and a half years. His Apparation took him to a quiet little corner of the Caribbean, where he went to a bar and ordered the highest proof rum available and a large glass, intent on creating a new form of memory charm using only hard liquor, high-quality marijuana, and a pretty girl.

A few years go by, and we take a look at the world today, and we find that things have settled down quite a bit. Everything that could have turned out as a happy ending did, what, with a new Minister, new families, and a new lease on life, a majority of the Hogwarts crew was happy and moving on. However, people still looked for Harry Potter, sent him owls with Portkeys, tried scrying for him, and all manner of location-finding activities. Fortunately for Mr. Potter, he had planned well in advance for this and had prepared accordingly. He was his own secret keeper, and anyone that may have been looking for him decided the well-tanned man with the huge mane of black hair was beneath their notice, and not even remotely connected with Harry Potter. Harry, on the other hand, had found some measure of peace, starting up a bar and grill that was immensely popular. He took pleasure in the simple things that had been granted to him by his newfound identity and locale: Beautiful scenery, beautiful women, a good living, blending in with the background, and the companionship of his two German Shepard pals, Kirby and Juno. He never completely relaxed, at all, and was all but inaccessible for long-term relationships, much to the chagrin of many women. He was by no means a sub-par lover, but was unable to form the emotional attachment that his partners desired. He was too jaded by the fighting, to numb to watching people that he cared about die, to involve himself in a relationship like that for a long time, if ever. Harry Potter a.k.a Ellis Valentine was a cautious man, and had on more than one occasion found someone that had slipped through the cracks in his security. They were disposed of accordingly, either by memory modification or by killing them in a quiet and "accidental" manner, going to extreme lengths to dissuade any notion of involvement on his part. He was happy being anonymous and uninvolved with the magical world, they could burn for all he cared. Either they didn't want him or they wanted to use him for political reasons. All of this would have gone on for a long time, perhaps forever, if it hadn't been for the fact that the Old Man had found him and gotten a letter through to him.

Try as he might, Harry Potter was going to re-enter the wizarding world after nearly a decade and a quarter of isolation, bordering on thirteen years, all because of a letter that Albus Dumbledore had sent to him through the muggle post with the words that Harry never wanted to see again followed with a jerking sensation behind his navel.

Ellis Valentine's small house was empty except for a pair of dogs and a letter on the floor, saying

"I'm sorry"

So, what did you think? I'm open to **polite** criticism, and reviews are always welcome. This is my first attempt mind you, so I'm hoping that's its fairly decent. I decided to write a story in this vein because there aren't too many stories I've found that involve Harry just up and disappearing after the war and scorning the wizarding world, or portraying him as a cold, slightly heartless bastard either. So, my experiment is the words preceding this, and I hope you liked. The update will come soon, I promise.

Later!


	2. That's a long story

The Last Dinosaur

Written by Sawn-Off GlitterBoy

Disclaimer: You've seen it in Chapter 1, so why bother replacing it? Its just going to say the same thing: I don't own HP, JKR does, and I will mention what is my intellectual property at the end of each chapter…crap…anywho, on with the fic!

Chapter 2: "That's a long and complicated story involving the Pillsbury Doughboy, a nuclear bomb, and lots and lots of explosions"

Harry was on full alert when the Portkey took him to where his destination was, no doubt the Old Man's office. As soon as the spell wore off and his new destination was reached, he was already surveying his options and calculating how best to subdue the people in the room to secure his escape without endangering himself. Unfortunately, this was not to be, as he was subdued as soon as his feet hit the carpeted floor of the Headmaster's office. Harry cursed every deity that was involved with his life and wished them a sever headache for all the interference that they had deemed fit to throw in his life. His though process was immediately derailed when the Old Man came into view, white hair, sad grandpa look, the whole works. "Yup," Harry muttered under his breath, "I KNEW that today was going to be a bad day. I need to listen to Hanna-baba more often."

Albus Dumbledore was many things, but he wasn't a complete idiot, though many people (Harry) would disagree with that statement. He knew that Harry wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world, but these circumstances were strenuous, and he had no choice but to resort to extreme measures to get Harry to even listen to him. As such, the well-tanned man in front of him was the end result of many months of hard work and exhaustive research. Harry had obviously taken care of himself quite nicely during his self-imposed exile; he was healthy looking, with a full head of _long_ black hair that was white in some places. He had several tattoos; easily visible because of the wife-beater he was wearing. He thankfully was wearing pants, as Albus knew that Harry checked his mail at uneven intervals, he was hoping that Harry wouldn't Portkey in wearing a pair of boxers and not much else. All in all, he looked physically fine, if a bit annoyed.

Albus figured that now was as good a time as any to start the proceedings, but Hermoine beat him to the punch, "Where have you been, Harry Potter!" After Ron and Hermoine were married, it seemed that the Weasely temper was contagious, and Professor Granger was turning it on full blast. Even Molly bowed in deference to her mightiest of rages, but Harry was, unimpressed, to say the least. He merely gave a small smile and replied with the tone that one might use to report the weather, "That's a long and complicated story involving the Pillsbury Doughboy, a nuclear bomb, and lots and lots of explosions." That one simple response was enough to stop the woman mid-rant, and merely look at him as if he had lost his mind. This is where Dumbledore saw fit to enter the conversation.

"While I'm sure that it is quite the rousing and entertaining story, that will have to wait for another time. I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that the world needs your help again." Harry gave him a look that would have made even Tom Riddle flinch, but continued as if he hadn't noticed, which he hadn't. "There have been a rash of recent murders and thefts that are decidedly Riddle-esque, but we know that he his dead. We believe that someone is trying to take his place and revive the Death Eaters once more, to continue the work that Tom started." Dumbledore turned to gauge Harry's response, and was slightly disturbed at what he saw.

Harry had fallen asleep with his eyes wide open, having a glazed look that suggested that he had lost interest shortly after he had intervened in the conversation. He said quietly, "Mr. Potter, have you been so numbed by your regular binge drinking sessions that the real world holds no appeal to you?" Harry blinked, looked at Dumbledore cock-eyed, and responded, "Still haven't had your fill of spying on me? I really would have thought that you would have had better things to do than fuck my life up even worse than it already is. I liked where I was until you so rudely interrupted my routine, and frankly, I don't care about the victims of those pathetic little wannabe's. He moved his right hand forward enough through the magical ropes to make a gesture combined with the comment; "This is a thousand tiny violins, playing the world's saddest song just for them. Move on, I'm not your toy soldier anymore. I REFUSE to be pushed, prodded, coerced, or manipulated into fighting for you cretins again. No one cared that I gave up so much, just to save them. No one cared that I became a mass murderer, to do what? Save their pathetic cowardly asses. The only thing that those ignorant whelps care about is the completely moronic notion that I'm going to become the next Dark Lord, or that I would make a useful campaign tool. Piss off, before I get the British Ministry, the American law division, and the Jamaican authorities involved for kidnap and blackmail." The crowd in the office looked on as he continued in his rant, and when he was finished, Albus merely sighed and asked, "Are you done, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't fucking believe it, the man was clinically insane. And here, most of the wizarding world though HE had problems, the Old Man really had lost it in his absence. Harry hated to sound childish but replied, "You can't make me, and you know it. There isn't anything in this world that would make me become your disposable hero again." Albus gave him a stern look, usually reserved for the extremely moronic or people that had gotten on his bad side. "Mr. Potter, you never have been and never were a _disposable_ asset. I fully expected you to win the war, and I think it is a very grave mistake to pass judgment on the wizarding world so soon."

Harry merely snorted, "I'M not expendable, everyone else is. Wow, what a moronic statement to say in front of people who that applied to. What else you'd you like to do to restart my nightmares Mr. Dumbledore?" His head dropped to his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing most of his power back into the cage he built for it. He forced some of it through his eyes, looking at Dumbledore again, blue plasma cracking and sparking from the corners as the main part was colored all the same color blue. "What gives you the right, Mr. Dumbledore? Where in the infinite capacity that is your wisdom did you equate me doing my job with a lifetime guarantee on my services? Fuck. You. Try and bring me back again and I WILL burn this school down with everyone inside. I've had enough of being your pawn, stand on your own two for once, instead of dumping all of it on a person who still hasn't moved on! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"

With that statement, the magical ropes holding him burst into flame, but that wasn't the frosting on this cake by any means.

Firstly, the fire was plasma-fueled, meaning that magical attempts to put it out would be totally and completely useless. It was a useful little discovery, kept secret from _everyone_, including Harry's allies. Plasma shields were effective against any form of magical or physical assaults, including the ever-so-popular Avada Kedavra. The only problem was that they were very difficult to keep up without extensive training and reserves of willpower. Second, they were plasma; meaning things that you may not want to get destroyed will probably be reduced to molecules.

Second, Harry was nearing the end of his rather large reserves of patience he had for the morons in front of him, and that was never a good thing, feeding even more fuel to the fire, no pun intended.

Thirdly, because of the amount of training and experience he had with the technique, Harry was invulnerable to the affects of plasma on his person. His clothes were left untouched, along with his hair and tattoos. Due to the heat-intensive nature of plasma, Harry was automatically extended the same protection from fire of all kinds, perhaps except for the hottest of flames, like the sun or a nuclear reactor.

Lastly, no one in the office was aware of the fact that Harry could manipulate plasma, or what it was capable of. They had all seen it at one time or another, and often assumed it was some sort of shield, as that was its oft-used function. However, the members of the Order of the Phoenix were about to be schooled in how effective plasma in the hands of Harry Potter could really be.

So, waddaya think? I was trying to find Harry a slight more unique power than just regular pyrokinesis or control over the fire element, or making him the magical equivalent of Superman. I like a powerful Harry, but not one that defies all known laws of physics and realism.

By the way, on to the things that I own out of this whole shtick. Firstly, I will probably be borrowing heavily from several sources with the whole plasma thing coughHalocough. I really don't want to infringe on any copyrights, but I will probably borrow several elements from the game, but the way it is used and its origins ARE ALL MINE! YOU'LL GET NOTHING, AND LIKE IT!

Anything that you recognize either from mass media or other fics that I didn't cite, PLEASE, drop me a line in the review to let me know! I hate the though of theft of others' ideas and creations without permission. Seriously, I don't mean to step on anyone's toes or rip them off. I just get a little carried away sometimes, that's all.

Anyway, next chapter should be up sometime by the end of the week (hopefully), so stay tuned.


	3. A Not So Secret Hideout

The Last Dinosaur

Written by: Sawn-Off GlitterBoy

Disclaimer: If you're reading this from chapter one, then you already know what this says.

Ah, while I'm remembering: The language key! I am speaking French now! French. YAY! I can insult my parents without them knowing what I'm saying! Spanish

Chapter 3: Scar Tissue

The main doors of Hogwarts had been there since the school was constructed. They had even survived the mass rush of the last battle by Voldemort's minions. They had seen and lived through much, but nothing prepared them for the plasma-induced wrath spewing from Harry Potter's hands that blew the mighty doors right off their hinges and threw them forty feet out, landing with a loud 'THUD' on the castle grounds. The aforementioned plasma-wielding individual was storming out, the electric-blue aura crackling around him and arcing into metallic items occasionally or burning jagged lines into anything unfortunate enough to conduct the super-heated material. He was being followed by a group of witches and wizards that were throwing spells at him of all varieties, all of them splitting apart of disintegrating as the hit his shield, the weaker ones just fading as they got within ten or so feet or curving around him to go wild, lighting up the evening sky. They were fearful, not only for themselves, but for the students on the Quidditch pitch, as it was in the middle of a match.

However, Harry stayed as far away from the pitch as possible, moving toward the edge of the Apparation wards for show. Another one of his more useful studies in the field of advanced magic was the knowledge of how to beat any kind of Apparation wards, through the use of Distortion. It was more of a branch of meditation and perception of the world around you than it was of actual spell work. In quick and dirty terms, it distorted the magical core of a person in such a way that it made a sort of shockwave of anti-magic. It was localized and stayed around once it had been deployed, allowing the "caster" to Apparate out through the wards. Also very useful for shorting out detection wards and traps on doors by creating a concentrated burst through the hands, saturating and burning out the energy of the wards similar to how an EMP worked on electronic devices.

The group of Professors and the Headmaster watched as he slowed to a stop and the air around him seemed to ripple and bend, like you were looking at him through a heat wave. They began casting spells, trying to stop him, but before they could even cover a quarter of the distance, the luminous blasts just vanished. They didn't fade, didn't fizzle, they just vanished, gone, like they had never been cast. Harry spoke above the din of the match and the spells flying around him, "I'm going to leave now, and if you follow me, try to take me, or anything of that nature, my earlier threat still stands. The school will burn, regardless of who is inside, it makes no difference to me. My life is my own now, and if you think you can come and ruin what I've worked so hard for, I've KILLED for, then you are a fool of the highest caliber, and I will have no mercy for you." With the threat still ringing in the air, Harry vanished, Apparating away to his home in Jamaica. This was followed by the obligatory shout from Professors Granger-Weasely and Weasely that Apparation was impossible inside of Hogwarts.

Ellis reappeared just inside of his own area of town, inside of a warded zone that was safe from muggle eyes, or magical ones for that matter. He stepped out into the early afternoon light, savoring the smell of home, his little slice of paradise. His walk home was leisurely; many people spotted him that he knew in passing and regulars at his bar, each one saying 'Hello' or asking how Kirby and Juno were. The dogs were fixtures at La Mascarade, and acted as entertainment for the little ones that came by and as a potent motivation for surly patrons to leave; Kirby and Juno had been sent after drunk patrons before, and often began growling when people disagreed with Ellis' assessment that they had had enough.

He made it around to his corner of the world, a modest little white house with a porch, a hammock swing, and a beautiful ocean view. He unlocked the door, and was immediately pounced upon by the aforementioned pups. They were overjoyed to see him it seemed, and the showed their displeasure with his sudden magically-induced disappearance by licking his face with gusto. "Alright you two, off! I wasn't gone for THAT long, you should still be sleeping!" The dogs just looked at their owner as if to say, "And your point is…?" Ellis sighed and threw up his hands, "Like you two would ever behave. C'mon, I got some mail to sort and wards to strengthen." The dogs obediently went inside, their master shutting the door behind them with an unceremonious 'BANG' and locked it with a wave of a hand.

The woman across the street watched all of the events with a keen eye, looking for details. She seemed satisfied when he closed the door, and she moved away from the window as she pulled out a cell phone, pushed a button and said, "Albus, he's back, and he doesn't look overjoyed about the unexpected reunion."

The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, and our protagonist and his dogs began their nightly sojourn to Ellis' place of work, La Mascarade. The name of the bar was a double pun by Ellis' count; the first was that the bar was located in the magical part of the city. Many magical folk came to this bar for a good drink at reasonable prices. The magical patrons also noticed that if asked correctly, the bartender had a rather large collection of magical liquors that seemed to be unrecognizable by the rest of the bar. The second was the fact that the owner was a wizard hiding as a muggle among wizards that thought he was a wizard. What better way than to hide in plain sight, where no one would really look with any thoroughness?

The night was warm, the sun painting the sky a myriad of red and gold, Gryffindor colors, and Ellis couldn't help the smirk that crept on to his face. He quickly suppressed the thought, and went back to his patrons, swapping stories and jokes over liquor that flowed like water, and he felt at peace for a few moments. Juno nuzzled up to his leg, whining softly as she sensed his sadness. Ellis' thoughts drifted back to his old life, wondering why he hadn't seen Remus' death coming. He had stopped beating himself up over it a long time ago, but he still grieved occasionally when the memories were too much to force back into the dark corners of his mind.

The crowd was beginning to thin out, and only the regulars were left when the clock hit ten. Ellis smiled and went over to the master jukebox controls behind the bar and punched up "Still Crazy After All These Years" by Paul Simon. He relaxed on the stool that had been so graciously left there by a surly patron one night that Ellis never got around to moving. He was relaxed, but not to the point where wasn't aware of what was happening around him.

Case in point: As the door opened, blowing in the warm tropical air, Harry caught the smell of a woman wearing rather nice perfume, with a bitter tang of magic on the end. The only people that put out that kind of smell were magical folk that had some kind of full-body ability that was always on, his plasma manipulation for example. A few more seconds of comparison smelling indicated that she was in her mid-twenties, as the magic smell was strong, and she moved in a way that was vaguely familiar to him. He cracked one eye as she rapped on the counter, demanding his attention. "Yeah, what would you like? " He asked, taking stock of her.

She was shapely, about 5' 7", definitely a piece of eye candy. She gave him a crooked grin and replied, "I don't speak French." Ellis merely replied, "That could be a bit of a hazard if nobody knows English and you get hit by a car. So, waddaya want?"

Kirby and Juno had come up beside him, and Kirby began to vibrate from his growls, ever so slightly. Ellis knew that the dogs could smell magic, and especially magic from people he had trained them to stay away from.

The woman, oblivious to the dynamic duo out of her line of sight, asked for a Long Island Iced Tea. Ellis moved to comply with the order, carefully palming a tiny vial filled with clear liquid, putting three drops into the drink at uneven intervals, as to throw off suspicion. He finished the drink's preparation with am artistic flourish of the bottle and gave her the drink.

His mystery woman gave muted thanks as she began to drink, the liquor sliding down her throat, the Veritaserum working its magic in moments. Her eyes clouded slightly for a moment, and then regained their life, as she kept drinking. Ellis quietly asked her, "Who are you?" She had already come up with an alias, but her mouth wouldn't listen to what she told it to do. "Nymphadora Tonks," she replied in an equally quiet voice. Her eyes snapped wide at the statement, and realized what she had said and what had happened.

Ellis had a blank look on his face as he proceeded with the questioning. "Why are you here?" His voice was devoid of emotion, and the flicker of laughter that had been there before was absent. "I was given orders by Albus to track you if you managed to escape Hogwarts," she said numbly, her mind screaming for her lips to stop. Tonks' eyes were frantic, but she couldn't escape the seat, it was like it was holding her there. His eyes flared for a minute, and then were filled with a combination of sadness and rage. "Forget you ever saw me, you were never here. You were thrown off the trail, and you lost me somewhere in Munich. I don't want to see you around here ever again, understand?" Ellis' voice was cold, and his final sentence brooked no argument. Tonks strangely found herself agreeing with him, and he memories of the last few hours were fading and shifting, rearranging themselves into what Ellis had suggested as the potion did its work.

Ellis took the money she had put on the bar and wished her a good night as she got up and left, resolving himself to find out how they found him and destroy it at all costs, even if it meant moving again. He was tired of the fighting, and he would rather eat his hand than fight for them again. He closed the bar early that night, and began hunting down what had allowed him to be found by the wizarding world.

So, did you like it? Hate it? Give me a review and you can tell me! I'm squeezing my muse for all of her precious vital ideas, and she has yet to disappoint me. Input and replies are welcomed, and Mecha-Tama's for everyone who reviews! Later!


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